


The Woman Who Loved Dragonlords

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this KMM prompt: <i>He looks so much like his father.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Woman Who Loved Dragonlords

**Author's Note:**

> This is fiction. In no way do I endorse parent/child incest.
> 
> Please don't read if this sort of thing offends you. Read something you enjoy instead.

Even as a little boy, he was clearly his father's son. He had blue eyes, deep as oceans; pale skin and dark hair. Sometimes, when he looked at her, his gaze was level and serious, and for a moment she only saw _Him_.

One day he was taller than she was, and when he entered the little cottage, sweaty from having helped with the hay, her heart almost stopped. She was setting the table for supper when his shadow fell over her. The shadow of a tall, dark man. A stranger to her, just as _He_ had been. He smelled foreign, no longer like her little boy.

When his arms enclosed her, it was just like so many times before, and yet so different. Afterwards, she didn't know how it happened, who took the first step. Maybe she turned. Maybe he kissed her neck first.

It didn't end there. He kissed her mouth. Bending down, holding her chin in his hand as if she was the virgin, the innocent one. They kissed. He crowded her against the table.

The sound of someone passing by outside brought them back to themselves.

It was different after that. It was as if they were strangers to each other, to themselves, even. He was still a boy, still lanky and funny, not the man his father had been when he stole her heart. But he was more precious, more delicate, courting her like a boy would, with his handfuls of wild flowers and unexpected compliments.

One night, she went to bed before him, not waiting until the fire had been banked and the lamps put out. He sat at the table still, shaping reeds into a basket, when she let out her hair and took off her gown. He was staring at her, cheeks flushed red, when she pulled off her shift and crept into her bed naked.

It was the first time a man had seen her unclothed form since _He_ left.

He put down his work, covered the fire, put out the lamps. The darkness was almost complete when she sensed him by her bed, hesitating.

She swallowed, said, "Come."

She heard the rustle of his clothes being removed, and then he was with her. His body was fresh, still thin and reedy, but strong. 

For a moment, she was ashamed of her body. Her breasts were not as high as they had once been, her waist not as thin. But he didn't seem to notice. He kissed her, caressed her, as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world. 

And she was, to him.

She let him inside her, into the place where he had once come from, and he sighed as he died in her.

For one year, she shared her body with him, before she set him free.

"You were meant for greater things," she said as he bent down to let her kiss his cheek and give him her blessing. There were tears in his eyes, but she didn't budge.

She stood and watched him as he grew smaller, as he disappeared on the other side of a hill, the same way his father had once come.

Like his father before him, he was never hers to keep. 

She was alone again.


End file.
